


The Case of the Oblivious Detective

by KTC10



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bondage, Dubious Consent, M/M, Spanking, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 08:46:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/685067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KTC10/pseuds/KTC10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt from Sherlock BBC Kink Meme:  John is having a noisy nightmare and distracting Sherlock at a crucial moment in his experiment or whatever. So Sherlock goes into his room, gags him and ties him up so completely that he can't so much as role over from his position on his stomach. Then bares John's bottom (or all of him, if you like) and spanks him long and hard as punishment for being so loud. Then he leaves him there, bare and hurting and unable to move or yell.  When he finally remembers to come back, he finds John still in the same position, lying in his own piss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Case of the Oblivious Detective

**Author's Note:**

> My first fanfic in the Sherlock fandom. Not Brit-picked or Beta'd, so feel free to point out my stupidity.

John could feel the blood dripping from several shallow wounds his interrogator has sliced into his skin. He tried to pull away, but couldn’t move an inch due to the expert way he was bound. The man was yelling at him to wake up and pay attention but John was struggling to focus. It suddenly struck him that the man was speaking English rather than Dari and that his voice was rather familiar. 

John awoke to Sherlock’s annoyed shouts telling him to shut up. 

“Hwha-?” John tried to sit up to gain his bearings, but found himself bound as tightly as he had been in his dream. The veteran assumed that the uncommon interrogator dream must have arisen partially due to his current predicament, since his nightmares usually involved his many failings in the field of duty and all the soldiers he wasn’t able to save. 

“Oh great, you’re finally awake. I could barely hear myself think with all the racket you were making. You really should see someone about these recurring nightmares.”

“Sherlock. It’s four in the morning. What are you doing?” John asked, trying to turn to see his partner, but unable to because of his bindings. Sherlock had somehow managed to tie him, wrists and ankles, facedown on his bed without him waking. John would be impressed if he wasn’t so annoyed. He tried to roll over and gain some leverage, but his binds had too little slack. 

“I thought that would be obvious. You were disturbing my thinking process with your shouting. The most reasonable response is that I discipline you.” 

“I’m sorry, what? How is that reasonable?”

Sherlock sighed. “John, you know that I dislike explaining things that are dreadfully clear.” At the doctor’s annoyed groan into his pillow, the detective rolled his eyes and continued. “Fine. You will benefit from a distraction after the trauma of that nightmare and hopefully the punishment will decrease the likelihood of a recurrence. More importantly, though, is that I will benefit because, as you know, your punishments typically lead to copulation, and orgasms generally help my thinking process. I need all the clarity I can get on this zookeeper case, especially since you’ve been interrupting my train of thought with your incessant shouting. Now open your mouth.”

John grunted in surprise as a ball gag was unceremoniously shoved into his mouth and strapped behind his head. Sherlock then moved to kneel to left of the doctor’s restrained form and began softly stroking his hand down the smooth curve of his back. When he reached John’s arse, he gave it a playful slap. “Let’s start with a solid fifty and see where that takes us.”

Sherlock began to spank John, but more earnestly now, increasing the strength of the blows every five or so swats. John found himself rather confused. On the one hand, he was still rather disoriented from his nightmare and disgruntled with Sherlock for not asking if this was actually what he wanted. On the other, his body was reacting quite favorably to the spanking, and his cock gave its first twitches of arousal. He could feel the heat on his already bare backside (because he had quite quickly found it was pointless to try to wear pajamas in a bed he shared with a curious detective) and it was slowly spreading to his groin. Despite his original reluctance, he soon found himself alternatively rubbing his cock into the mattress and moving up to meet Sherlock’s hand. When the younger man finally reached fifty and stopped, John was groaning and panting and so hard that he could feel the precum dripping from his cock onto the sheets. 

“You’re so nice and rosy for me. If I wasn’t in the middle of a case, I would probably move on to the riding crop, but you seem suitably chastened for the time being.” John sighed, though whether it was from relief or disappointment even he wasn’t sure. 

He felt Sherlock move off the bed to search the drawers for lube and a condom. Upon his return, he shoved a pillow under the soldier’s hips and opened the cap of the lubricant. He swiftly prepared John’s hole with his lube-covered fingers before rolling on the condom and rather roughly shoving his way inside. John grunted at the less than gentle breaching of his body, but couldn’t complain, both literally due to the gag and figuratively, as he liked it when Sherlock man-handled him. 

He could tell by Sherlock’s quick thrusts that he was trying to finish up as quickly as possible so he could get back to the case and tried to help him along by squeezing his passage around Sherlock’s cock. The result was nearly immediate as the detective moaned and increased his pace. A few strokes later and Sherlock came with a shudder and a gasp. 

“Of course! The lion’s cage! How could I not have realized before? I must text Lestrade immediately.” Sherlock quickly pulled out of the trembling doctor and pulled his pants and trousers, which he had barely pushed past his thighs, back up before running out of the room. John, who had been on the verge of cumming before being interrupted by Sherlock’s apparent non sequitur, laid motionless and blinked blearily in confusion. 

John stayed still and listened for a few moments, hoping for his partner’s return, until the slam of the front door crushed his small amount of hope. Sherlock had just abandoned him, tied to the bed and so hard it hurt. John did the first thing he could think of-he thrust against the sheets and pillow beneath him until he reached a successful yet unsatisfying climax, spilling cum all over the sheets under his stomach. _Great_ , he thought, _that’s going to feel bloody splendid later. Good thinking, Watson._

As the afterglow of his less than stellar orgasm began to wear off, the doctor became more aware of the various aches and pains his body was experiencing. His arms, especially his bad shoulder, were sore from the position they were in. His jaw ached from the ball gag. His arse was stinging from his punishment earlier. His whole body was tired from wiggling around in his bindings, as well as from being awakened in the early hours of the morning. Figuring that at least the last problem could be solved now, John made himself as comfortable as possible and drifted back to a thankfully dreamless sleep. 

The next time John woke up it was half six, the time he got up every morning. With a quick assessment of his surroundings, he concluded that Sherlock had neither untied him nor even returned to the flat. While he was less tired and the stinging of his arse had diminished quite significantly, the ache in his arms and jaw had gotten worse. He also recognized that one of his other body parts was becoming uncomfortable-his bladder. 

John made the decision to focus on planning how to get revenge on the detective rather than on his increasing need to piss. It didn’t help that he was forced to lie on his stomach and that the dried cum under him was continuously drawing his attention back to his itching cock. By the time the doctor reached his forty-third revenge plan (inviting Sally and Anderson on a double date) an hour and a half later, it was becoming obvious to John that Sherlock would not be returning any time soon. 

With a self-pitying sob that he would resolutely deny ever came out of his mouth, John finally released his bladder four hours after his partner had abandoned him. With the mattress beneath him now soaked in his own piss, the former soldier consciously upped the revenge plans in his mind to a higher scale…triple date with Sally, Anderson, Mycroft, and Lestrade. 

Two hours later, when John was sure that his stomach was deciding to mutiny and start eating itself, he heard the front door open and close. He heard Sherlock running quickly up the stairs towards his bedroom, but pause before opening the door. When the detective finally built up the courage to open the door and face his inevitably furious flatmate and boyfriend, John tried to make his face suitably angry and not display the relief he was feeling. Sherlock visibly assessed the scene on the bed, his nose scrunching when he smelt the urine. At least Sherlock had the grace to look embarrassed.

“I realized my mistake after the class was solved, Lestrade asked me where you were. I brought an olive branch?”  
Sherlock held out a bag of jam doughnuts from John’s favorite bakery. John offered a glare in return. 

“Right, I’ll have these knots untied in a moment. Would you like to hear how I brilliantly solved the case in the meantime?” Another glare from John quickly shut him up. He untied the ropes efficiently and the doctor was able to relax his muscles for the first time in hours. 

“Take a few moments to get yourself together, I’ll go run you a bath.”

“Yeah, you fucking better.” Sherlock hurried out of the room after placing the pastry bag next to John. A few minutes later, he cautiously returned to the door to see that John had sat up and was enjoying a doughnut. Taking this as good news, he moved into the room again.

“Your bath is ready. Leave your clothes here and I’ll take care of the laundry.” At John’s raised eyebrow, he amended. “Well, I’ll have Mrs. Hudson take care of the laundry.” A glare. “Okay, I’ll do the laundry, but I’m taking it to a cleaner. Happy with this scenario, John took the rest of the doughnuts and started heading towards the bath, looking forward to finally getting all the sweat and piss and cum off his body. 

“While you’re in the bath, I’ll work on developing a contingency plan so this, er, situation doesn’t happening again. Maybe a having a phone near by or this thing I saw on the internet with ice cubes…”

“You bloody well better or I am going to take you on the date from Hell.” John slammed the door behind him without looking back to see the rather confused look on his boyfriend’s face. 

The End.


End file.
